


The Bracer

by incandescent (lmeden)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/incandescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shall I tell you a secret, Jon Snow?” she whispers.</p>
<p>Also: cold, fur, cave, lick, red, blessed, remember, hunt, growl, knowledge, vows, grip</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bracer

“Shall I tell you a secret, Jon Snow?” she whispers.

He rolls to press his nose into her hair; it smells like smoke. Ygritte reaches out and takes his hand, lowers it to her cunt. He runs his fingers through the hair there, feeling quite languid and wonderful. 

“Well then, I suppose not.”

“Wait,” Jon says, forcing his mind to remember what she’s said. “No, tell me. I want to know, really.”

Ygritte cants her hips, and Jon’s fingers slip further down, across the slick heat of her. He curls a finger and slips it inside her, rubbing at that small nub of flesh that makes her flush. Doing this is the only time he feels warm, lately. 

He feels her thighs clench around his hand and pushes deeper. 

“They say,” Ygritte says, “that the farther south you travel, the warmer it gets. Half the time, I don’t believe them.”

Jon’s brow furrows. Ygritte shifts, and her lips curl into a smile. He pushes up to sit above her and works two fingers deep into her. 

“Why not?” he asks. “That’s how it is; the lands get hotter and hotter, and drier, the farther away from here you travel.”

“How do you know?” she snarls, and rocks forward onto his hand. Jon’s cock throbs despite the cold, and he leans forward to kiss her. She allows it for a second, then shoves his mouth away. “Have you ever been so far south, felt the air that holds the heat of a bonfire against your skin?”

Jon pauses. “No,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean such a place doesn’t exist. I know my father has been there.”

“Stories,” she says dismissively, “don’t mean it’s there, either.” This time she allows him to kiss her, and curls up against him, wrapping her legs around him, tangling her feet in the skins of the cloak he keeps cast over them. The cave is chill, and the rocks dig into his knees. 

He shifts against her, removes his hand from between her legs and slips his cock between them. He rubs slick fingers over her breast and arches against her, the friction of her thighs around him pounding through his body. Her hands tangle in his hair and pull him down, and her breath turns short. 

Jon gasps, licking, biting down on her collarbone as he shudders and sensation rips through him. Her freezes, and sighs. He relaxes, pulling away, and Ygritte hisses, snatches at his hand and shoves it back down between her legs. He pushes his fingers back into her, and her hips jerk, moving quickly. He tries to move with her, but can’t quite follow, and his fingers quickly cramp up. 

So he seizes her by the hair and kisses her deeply, all tongue and teeth and closed eyes, and after a moment more she stiffens beneath him and sighs, and Jon carefully works his fingers free. He lies next to her and carefully bends them to loosen the cramp. 

“They may be wrong.”

“Hmm?” Jon murmurs. 

“I’ve never travelled beyond the Wall, but I fear that if I do, I’ll find ice that does not end; that it continues for leagues, holding the land in the grip of an everlasting winter.”

Jon sighs. “I can assure you you’re wrong. I may not have travelled to Dorne, but I did grow up in Winterfell. We didn’t see a hint of ice, for many years. The halls were warm, and flowers grew in the fields.” It was lovely, now that he thinks of it. Such a pity that he’d been too wrapped up in himself to pay Winterfell any mind back then. 

“You’re a fool,” she says, “to believe everything you hear.”

_And who is saying these things? Who is ‘they’?_ As usual, he can’t parse her thoughts. So he lets the conversation fall apart and die, and tries to think only of the way she feels against him, together under their fur. 

Long moments later, she rolls her eyes to look at him. 

“You must make me a promise.”

“Yes?” Jon says, instantly wary. 

“When we take the Wall, you must bring me with you. Take me south, down the Kingsroad – to Dorne, or King’s Landing, to the Eyrie, anywhere. Take me somewhere hot enough to melt the ice inside of me.”

Jon opens his mouth to protest but she reaches up and grasps his lips, closing off his voice. 

“Do you promise?”

He watches her, eyes wide, and then nods. “I promise,” he whispers, and she lets him go. He lies next to her and wraps her red hair around his wrist, plaiting it like a bracer, to steady and protect.


End file.
